


Mad Dogs and Englishmen

by fabricdragon



Series: Dogs and Cats [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Acting, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Fake Character Death, Kitty Fetish, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 22:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15083498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: what the heck, a continuation of "Dogs and Cats"starts at Reichenbach and the fall... canon compliant AU up to the timeline mentioned (pre Sherlock's return)





	Mad Dogs and Englishmen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chinnystar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinnystar/gifts), [AkiraDRyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiraDRyu/gifts).



Phil Anderson watched with interest as Sherlock threw himself off the roof.  It looked real for all that Jim was convinced he would fake it.   An hour later he got the “wrong number” text that told him Jimmy was alive and plans continued. Phil Anderson was, as of that text, fully in charge of the English branch of the network: now came the difficult part–faking his breakdown.

It started easily enough, a few shaken words on a crime scene about how Sherlock would have gotten it… escalated to how he couldn’t be a fake… and ended up with him having medical response called on him by a distraught wife.

The psychologist was an idiot–Jimmy would have laughed his head off at her– but it didn’t take long for a diagnosis of PTSD and guilt induced whatever, and he was removed from the force on medical leave.  He’d get that upgraded to permanent disability soon enough. He needed the time to manage the network and working a scheduled job in forensics was asking too much–he was smart, but only Jimmy could live that many lives at once.

He let a beard grow out and got more disheveled… no one paid attention to a loudly off balance man. He started the “I believe in Sherlock Holmes” fan club and posted loud and improbable theories for how he could have faked his death…

…And where he was and what he was doing.

A few of which were accurate, since sometimes his actions hit the news: most of them weren’t.

The sad thing is? Mycroft Holmes only did the most cursory of investigations.  Phil felt almost… cheated.

“You should be glad, you idiot.” Jim laughed at him when they got together in Denmark. “The whole plan was to keep you hidden in plain sight.”

“Yes, well,” Phil glanced at the newspaper and went back to typing on his laptop, “I was already categorized as a stupid nuisance, but harmless–no point in reviewing too much now that I’m a guilt stricken idiot.”

“I’ve seen some of the conspiracy theories–some of those are inspired, Phil; sure you don’t want to start planning for a few more spectacular crimes?”

“It’s exhausting.” Phil shook his head.  He was clean shaven and neat for once; he had the fake beard and hairpiece for the trip back home.

“You really clean up well, Phil, I’d almost forgotten.” Jim eyed the suit and the cuff-links and the perfect dimple in the tie.

“Suit whore.” Phil snickered. “Have you picked up a new bodyguard yet?”

“Not yet, how good was the last one, after all, if he got himself killed?”

“You need a bodyguard, seriously.”

“Uh huh.” Jim was doing obscene things with his tongue to a spoonful of dessert. “Come back to my place?”

“You just want to mess up my suit.”

“Never!” Jim smirked, “Maybe I just want to find out if you know how to hang anything up?  After years of your clothes in a heap…”

“You should see what I’m wearing now, it’s worse.”

Jim shuddered and got up, walking off after slipping the waitress his number to excuse the tongue action.  They’d been talking by throat mikes and ear bugs on the opposite sides of the street at two cafes after all.  Phil waited and put away his laptop and eventually made his way to Jim’s flat.

It was small and out of the way, and not nearly as rich as Jim would like, usually, but he always did throw himself into a role.

“So who are you this time?”

“The less you know, Phil…”

“True.” 

Jim swept the place for bugs out of reflex and smirked, “So… poor Phil, I heard you got a divorce and Sally isn’t seeing you anymore.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sent the wife on her way–don’t need her anymore and frankly she was boring.”

“She was supposed to be.”

“Pity about Sally,” Phil smirked, “I about had her trained… still; I can pick her up again later if I want.”

“So…” Jim snickered, “You don’t get laid anymore?”

Phil just about choked, “That’s not even funny–like I could go without? I have a new pet… or two.”

“Do they wear ears?”

“One does…” Phil smirked wickedly, “You know I’m going to try to pick up Sherlock when he comes back, right?”

“Phil…” Jim’s voice was dangerous, “That’s my toy!”

“Well, then you better be prepared to show him a good time.”

Jim flashed a wicked grin at him, “I’ve been practicing, even if it’s not on anyone worthwhile.”

“Prove it.”

Jim watched him strip out of his suit–and hang it up neatly, yes– with avid eyes. “Should have taken you with me… my current role is so horrible.”

“Sleeping with the boss you said.”

“No skills, purely slime, blackmails people into it mostly–luckily he’s moving to England soon.”

“What?”

“Not another word,” Jim smirked, “Until you give me a decent blow job.”

“I think I’m offended,” Phil snorted, “decent… nothing I do is ‘decent’ as you well know.”

Jim felt those familiar hands and that tongue and then “Ohmygodivemissedyourtongue.” Jim panted as Phil did things.

Phil just smirked and played Jim–from the feel of it he hadn’t been getting much.  He kept him hanging until he couldn’t anymore and let him come finally–Jimmy almost passed out.

“Haven’t you managed to sneak a playmate, Jimmy?”

“Bastard I’m targeting is too fucking observant,” Jim panted.  “Also he thinks he’s hot shit and he’s awful.”

“Doesn’t give blow jobs?”

“Wouldn’t demean himself, makes his pawns and underlings blow him.”

“So you’ve gotten better?”

Jim rolled his eyes, “Like I’d do even a half assed job on a guy who just wants me to choke on his dick?  He gets off on the threats and power.”

Phil frowned, “Why haven’t you killed him?”

“Because he’s got an in with Mycroft… and a lot of dirty dirty blackmail.”  Jim laughed, “He’s put me in place with a Danish politician to feed him blackmail now, so I won’t have to deal with him much longer–you might, but I doubt he’ll pay attention to you.”

“I want the whole file, Jimmy.” Phil snarled, “That’s too hot to just throw at me!”

“Why do you think I wanted to meet in person?” Jim grinned up at him.

“A decent blow job?”

“ohhhh no, honey… I get several blowjobs, and a solid fucking–Mags fucked me up the ass and I still feel slimy.”

“Mags… wait… MAGNUSSEN? The newspaper guy?!”

“Uh huh… major power player, blackmail, already dealing with Holmes and a few others–moving his base of operations full time to England in a month.” Jim’s laughing eyes suddenly went flat, “Stay away from him as much as you can, Phil, he’s as observant as a Holmes but far more ruthless.”

“Only you Jim…”

“What?”

“Only you could fool him, and only you would put up with letting someone like that use you.”

Jim shrugged. “I’ve managed to get taps into all his communications, Phil–I know where he’s sending all his hard copies and all the evidence… once he’s gone?”

Phil inhaled and almost came as he pictured it. “We’ll own everyone he had, and they won’t have a clue who we are…. Yessssss…”

Jim pulled him down onto the bed and bit his lip, “now fuck me until I scream Phil… there’s only so much bad sex a man can take.”

 


End file.
